


The Face of a Siren (and the Ghost of a Friend)

by CyberSearcher



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Brainwashing, Siren!Ram, brainwashing recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-11-18 00:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberSearcher/pseuds/CyberSearcher
Summary: Sam and Quorra continue to rebuild the Grid. Quorra introduces him to the Flynn, old memories and older scars are opened and healed. Despite time and memory separating them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not only do we need more Ram content, we need more Siren!Ram content. End of story.

Sam and Quorra looked up to the tower that housed End of Line - or what remained. Even from their point, they could see the fractured remains. Surprisingly, the elevator was still intact. He glanced back to the ISO, who held a firm look of nostalgia. 

“Are you sure you wanna go back?” He asked. “Not like there’s anything worth salvaging.” 

“It’s more than that.” She said. “That bar, Zuse… you never got to know him. He saved me, almost as much as Flynn.” As she spoke, Sam saw one of her hands raise to trace where her ISO mark laid hidden. “I never got to say goodbye.” 

It was moments like these that reminded - and made it ever more odd - how human these programs were. “Alright. We can check it out.” 

“Besides,” Quorra added with a smile, “the drinks were amazing.” 

Sam’s face scrunched up at that. “To you, I guess.” 

He heard her laugh behind her. The User just rolled his eyes fondly, turning to a interface panel as he analyzed and replaced some of the damaged code. It took him a few minutes before the elevator began its upward crawl, at a notably slower pace than before. 

If there was any benefit to the speed, it gave them both time to look over the newly rectified Grid. The city was vastly different from the last time Sam had seen it. Buildings filled with pixelated holes, streets pitted with holes. With the way the land looked, it was as if a surgeon had cut out a tumour. 

Which wasn’t far from the truth in Sam’s mind. 

Stepping off, the first thing Sam noticed was the thin layer of voxels still present on the floor. He figured it was mostly furniture. He didn’t want to consider the alternative. But something that struck him as odd was the way the room had been destroyed. 

Most of the entrance was intact, but the surrounding walls were all destroyed. Leaving nothing but fractured glass and broken pieces of chairs and tables. The bar itself was surprisingly intact, along with the upstairs alcove where he’d spoken with Zuse. 

He watched as Quorra stepped in with a somber look on her face, one hand tracing the edge of a table. It crumbled under her delicate brush. She made her way behind the bar and reached for a thin, crystalline flute filled with a turquoise shade of energy. 

She pulled a pair of glasses from under the table and poured them both drinks. Sam pulled up a - mostly - intact chair and held the glass with suspicion. Quorra simply raised hers. 

“Kevin told me Users would sometimes dedicate their drinks to an event of significance.” She said. “So, I offer this drink to the new Grid.” 

Sam couldn’t help but feel both proud of her eloquent speech. “Cheers.” 

He braced himself for the undoubtedly odd taste. But to his surprise, it tasted like a Redbull. Save for a hint of sweetness and spice. Sam pulled the glass back and gave a small ‘huh’ in approval. Quorra had set her drink down to watch his reaction. 

“What even is this stuff?” He asked out loud. 

“It’s energy.” Quorra said simply. 

Sam looked behind her to the several canisters filled with a dozen different colours. “That’s all energy?” He pointed. 

“Don’t Users have almost a hundred different forms of energy?”

Her plain tone kept Sam from being too offended, but he had to admit it was clever. “Touché.” 

Quorra couldn't hide her look of self satisfaction at that. She looked back to the energy. “It would be a shame to waste all this. Maybe we could bring it back with us? We could hand some out to the other programs.” 

“That’s actually a pretty good idea.” Sam nodded, pulling up the code to try and form a simple box. He frowned at the effort as Quorra began pulling off bottles of energy from the shelves. 

Sam actually managed to form a basic framework until his concentration was shattered under him. In possibly the most literal sense. The base of the stool he was sitting on was crumbled around the edges, at the time Sam didn’t think to hard on that. Until it finally gave away under him. Sending him crashing into the floor. 

Quorra leaned over the counter, initial concern written over her face. Until she realized what had happened, then her face broke out in a wide, open grin. Followed by laughter. And as stupid Sam felt in the moment, he couldn’t help but laugh with her. 

They did eventually manage to gather all the energy that was left, filling it into the elevator. Sam figured they’d have to make several trips to and back from their apartment, but he’d just roll with that for now. The elevator was still just as slow, but at least the descent was much less hectic than the last time. 

Quorra kept trading old stories from End of Line - apparently she’d spent some time working as a energy barista there - until her attention was drawn toward the streets. Someone was standing beneath them. 

Even from this distance, Sam could tell it was a Siren. Their grid suit was a stark white. But something else that caught his eye was how much brighter they glowed. The skin-tight suits looks just the same as any other citizen of the Grid, all broad and thin lines. But something - Sam couldn’t figure out what - made the program shine brighter. The detail itched at the back of his mind. 

He glanced over to see Quorra going wide eyed at the sight of the Program. For a minute, he thought she would just jump out of the stairs. But she capped her excitement for now, with a poorly held grin and rocking on her heels. Constantly casting exited glanced from Sam and toward street. 

Quorra practically dropped her crate on Sam’s foot, before running out to greet the Program. He staggered for a moment as she flew into him, but he balanced quickly and pulled her in for a proper hug.

“I can’t believe it! I thought you were derezzed!”

She laughed, then tugged him forward toward the confused User. “Oh, Sam! You don’t know him, but he and I used to work at End of Line together.” 

Up close, Sam still couldn’t place his finger on what made the Program look off. Save for perhaps the curly hair, he looked normal. He smiled warmly and held out his hand. 

“Hello, my name’s Ram.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sam wondered where Ram learn the action of shaking hands, he was fairly certain it wasn’t a way Programs greeted one another. 

But he pushed that - into a growing list -aside. “I’m Sam.” 

He neglected to add his last name, most Programs either had a visceral or reverent reaction to hearing the word ‘Flynn’. Even after Clu was destroyed and his efforts to repair the Grid, the best he could hope for from the populace was fear and suspicion. Though most Programs knew him by face alone. 

“Nice to meet you Sam.” Ram nodded, then to his surprise, smiled. “It’s good to see a new User.” 

The comadre surprised him. Sam struggled to respond to it. Quorra just grinned and stepped up. “Ram isn’t like others, he’s always believed in the Users power.” 

“Oh, well… good to know you don’t wanna shove a disk through my head.” Sam said, trying to lighten the mood.

Both Programs laughed at that. “No, you’ve done good for this system. You’re deserving of respect.” 

He rubbed the back of his head. “You don’t, y’know, have to do that. I’m just trying to help out, it’s the least I can do.” 

“It’s more than Clu did before.” Ram muttered. “Glitch-head gridbug.” 

Quorra snorted. Sam wondered if that was some sort of swear for Programs. And if it was, it was probably really bad. The Siren had guts, he’d give Ram that much. “So Ram… why’re you here?” 

“Same reason as her.” He slung an arm over Quorras shoulder. “I wanted to say goodbye. We had some good memories there, didn’t we?” 

Warmth filled her eyes. “Yea, we did.” 

Sam coughed. “Anyways, Ram, we’ve got some stuff to move. But you can tag along if you want.” 

Quorra suddenly remembered that, then pulled herself away from Ram. “Gridbugs, I forgot. Can you help us out? There’s free energy.” 

Her bribe made the Siren light up. He looked over her shoulder and nodded. “You got it, Q.” 

Sam watched the Siren jog back toward the crated, then proceeded to lift two with each arm. He blinked hard, making a double take at the scene. Quorra glanced at him questioningly, but said nothing, continuing back to their apartment. 

He hefted up his own crate. “We should’ve just taken a Cycle.” 

“Maybe.” Quorra shrugged. “But this is more… scenic. I think that was the term Flynn used.” 

Ram opened his mouth, about to comment. But was stopped when he suddenly knelt to the ground and dropped his crated, arms moving to press against his temples. Quorra didn’t bother being gently with setting down her own crate, kneeling by his side. 

“What? What’s happening?” Sam asked, panicked. “Is he okay?” 

He saw the Siren nod slightly, but his fists were still bunched in his hair. Quorra had one hand set against his, the other running circles down his back. Sam could hear her whispering soothing words into his ear, see Ram lean into the touch. 

He decided that they both clearly had the situation under control and diverted his eyes. 

“Ram?” Quorra whispered. “Ram? Are you okay now?” 

“Y-yea Q.” He muttered. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” 

She shifted into a sitting position. “Have they been happening again?” 

“Actually, they’ve stopped for a while.” Ram said. “Now it’s just every off-cycle or so.” 

“Okay.” She nodded. “Can you stand?” 

“Sure. Just… give me a sec?” 

Quorra moved her hand from his back to his front. Ram looked up to her and pressed his hands over hers. “Thank you.” 

She tilted her head forward so their foreheads touched. “It’s no problem.” 

Sam glanced back to the Programs. “Uhh, sorry to break the moment, but we… well we still gotta move.” 

Quorra blinked. “Oh, right.” 

“You two can… rest at the apartment while I’m gone.” He added “I’ll take care of the rest of the crates though.”

“Cut me some slack, Sam.” Ram shook his head, standing and pulling his crates back up. “I can manage.” 

“I mean, I don’t want to disturbed your moment. It’s fine, really.” He insisted. 

This time, both programs looked to each other, then back to Sam. The Siren seemed mildly offended. “Ram’s fine. The glitches pass and they don’t damage his code, he’s still fit to function.” Quorra said slowly. 

“No, no it's not that.” Sam bit his lip. “I thought you two wanted some privacy. Cause, y’know,” He made a pair motion with his hands, distantly wondered if there was a special Program term for it. 

“Wait,” Ram blinked hard again, “you think me and Quorra are a dedicated pair?” 

“Uh, sure, let’s go with that.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. 

Quorra laughed again. “We aren’t, Sam Flynn. Ram is just an old friend.” 

“Where’d you get that idea from?” The latter asked. 

Sam suddenly realized that the two had already begun walking. He picked up his crate and joked after them hastily. 

“Sorry, I guess I just read that wrong.” He admitted. “That kinda intimacy, I mean, nevermind. It’s not my business.” 

“Ram just has a mild tactile fixation, it’s never been a problem anyways,” Quorra shrugged. The bluntness and openness of the statement surprising the User, “even if we don’t know why, I think it’s cute.” 

“O-oh,” He cleared his throat, “Alright then.” 

“Do Users have different rules regarding intimacy with their friends?” Quorra asked, curiosity tinting her voice. 

“I mean, sort of?” He said, “Not all Users follow it and it’s not even an official law but, y’know what, nevermind. It’s stupid.” 

Ram just rolled his eyes. “It probably is if it’s that hard to explain.” 

The User gave a bark of a laugh, then sighed. “Yea, yea I guess it is.” 

The rest of the walk was fairly short and soon they to were walking back for the rest of the crates. Ram now cradling two bottles of energy, both a glowing aqua. Tipping back the first bottle, he held out the second to Quorra, who simply shrugged and pressed it back. 

Sam started to notice other programs lining the streets, ducking out into cover the minute he found them. He grit his teeth and sighed, thankful this was the last load. But just incase, he pressed himself closer to the other Programs. 

The Siren glanced at the User, but said nothing. “So, how much longer will you be here?” 

“Huh? Oh, about a week. Maybe sooner.” He said. “Set the portal on a timer, even if we miss it we’ve got about another week to wait before it’s back on.” 

“You’re lucky I wasn’t with you that day. Otherwise you’d be stuck here for longer than that.” Quorra added. 

He just groaned and let his head think against the glasses. “Please let me keep some level of reverence Quorra.” She didn’t and only continued to trade stories from the User world. Ram only continued to smirk at him. 

Their laughter was broken once a single Program apparently grew desperate enough to try something reckless. Out of the alleyway, one of them tackled Ram to the ground and began grabbing at the fallen bottles of energy, many now spilled or cracked. 

Sam hesitated to draw his disk - he could see how the Programs light flickered and faded - until he saw the other draw their own. Quorra made a dive to grab their arm, but she wasn’t fast enough. 

Ram was.

His arm shot out and grabbed at his attacker, then flipped him over with a kick to the chest. To be certain, the Siren kicked the disk of to the side before brandishing his own. He glared down and made a sharp ‘scram’ gesture with his head. Apparently, that plus the Siren’s expression was enough, leaving the Program to scramble back into the dark. 

Sam was left to stare for a second before the events registered. “Wait, shit! Are you okay?” 

“Yea, it’s okay.” He flexed and shook out his wrist, then looked to the broken bottles of energy. “Kinda sucks, it’s a waste of good energy.” 

“Maybe we can leave some out for the other Programs. I could set up a booth or somethin’. Like a lemonade stand.” Sam offered. 

“Lemonade?” They both asked. 

He just shook his head. “Nevermind, let's just get out of the open.” 

The apartment itself was entirely empty - Sam wondered who's lived in it before - and the decor was no different. All the walls, floors and ceilings were the same dark, black glassy material as most of the Grid. Glowing blue banners of light reflected of each surface. Square tables and benches were more or less the same and the walls were bare, save for the occasional window. 

Sam had played around with the code of their apartment while Quorra offered feedback. The result being a blend of Victorian furniture and Sam’s old dock crate. Somehow, they made the styles work. The couches were plush, off white bookshelves held dozens of new books and the kitchen had a old tea kettle Sam had but never used. Even Marvin’s bed. 

Sam couldn’t decide whether or not to keep the blue lighting, so instead just elected to split the living room and bedrooms with the two different colours. The living room being bathed in a severely less neon orange hue. 

The Siren takes his first steps in slowly, as if stepping into some hallowed building. Ram crouches to brush the fabric-like texture, then pulls back at the new, fuzzy feeling. He glanced behind him at the low coffee table, then looks back to Sam with an odd expression he can’t pin down.

It takes him a second to realize how much stuff is cluttered over it. Empty bottles, half-rezzed objects Sam had forgotten, Quorra's books and some extra cups of all shapes, sizes and colours. 

Ram tips his head back, still struggling to take it all in. Then he cracked a smile. “It’s… it’s such a mess.”

Sam made an embarrassed noise and quickly bent down to gather the bobbles. “Well, I mean, I’ve been doing a lot. Okay? Didn’t exactly reach the top of the to do list.” 

“Users,” The Program mumbled, “it’s all so much. How do you keep track of it all?”

He grinned, pulling back the books and de-resizing the extra mugs. “Hate to break the news, but we don’t.” 

“Users are odd.” Quorra added. “But they’ve created so much. Like books!”

“Books?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ram is left alone with Sam and Quorra leaving for 'User Business'. Left to his own devices, the Siren re-visits one of the places where he inexplicably finds comfort. While there, he finds another looking for the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna make sure I update this every week or so. I've got at least two (or one big) one-shot coming up featuring Quorra, a book store and Tron being kidnapped by hair stylists. 
> 
> :D

Sam and Quorra had left after a few nano-cycles. They’d told him it was because Sam had other functions as a User and Quorra wasn’t safe on the Grid. He’s understood well enough, but something tickled at the back of his mind. 

Both had let him have full access to their quarters, where he found himself now. Quorra's books kept him firmly glued to their couch as he poured through the stories of old Users, their philosophy and their amazing, imaginary worlds. He tore through them, and already had a sizeable pile set beside him. 

All the while, he tried to ignore the itching behind his head. It didn’t feel like another glitch, but it irritated him all the same. Eventually, Ram groaned and imitated the pinching action the User made. The Siren set the book down and leaned back in the plush material, finding it odd how his body sank into the material. 

He reached for his Disk and began idly flipping it into the air. Ram never knew where he’d learned how to do that, but it was a good way to keep his reflexes sharp. But he soon grew tired of that too. 

He soon settled in a name for the itching feeling. Inaction. Ram as a Siren - even a heavily glitched Siren - still had a function. But something buried deep within his binary forced a inexplicably strong feeling of ‘wrong’ every time he’d watch another Program walk out of the arena, trailing the voxels of the unlucky ones. 

There was a clattering sound, Ram looked down to see his disk had fallen out of his grip. He just sighed and picked it up again. 

Ram activated the interface and began scrolling through his own collection of data and code. He flicked through the window till he found the patch he was searching for. 

His code was just like any other Program, more or less. But he always noticed odd subroutines, fragments of unfinished commands and clipped lines. It always left him with questions. 

Eventually, Ram just decided to try it again. Selecting the broken lines, he pulled up the data below it. Old images flew up around him, darker, with more colour and a different sound than that of the Grid. 

He was standing somewhere small and somehow, he knew he wasn’t alone. Everything was pixelated and shifting. A mass of grey and blue moved across his vision while pieces of red hovered above him. Behind him, Ram could swear he saw another shape - another Program? - standing just behind him. 

There was a bold insignia on the Programs chest and Ram cursed at the fact it wasn’t clear. Just four indistinguishable blocks. 

The pain was getting worse now, to strong for Ram to ignore. He pushed himself back up into a sitting position, then looked out the window. 

The Sea of Simulation still reflected the light around it, all while in constant movement. Ram found himself stand and lean against the wall. 

He glanced back to the door. Then cursed at the fact there wasn’t any way to leave a note. But Ram figured he could probably make it back. He grabbed some extra bottles of energy before he left. 

**::::**

Wandering through the streets, Ram was thankful not to come across another Program. Though the thought saddened him all the same. He’d drained one of the containers, but resisted the temptation to take the rest. 

Casting a glance through the now barren crossroad, Ram tried to make out the glow of another Program beyond the buildings. Nothing. He sighed, but continued down. The city began to fade away, the chunks of carved pixels growing larger and more frequent. He had to watch his step from the holes in the road as he made his way down to the Sea of Simulation.

Ram looked behind him to see how his boots shifted against edge of the Sea. The way he could kick up the surface always confused him - he could never understand the purpose - but the Siren enjoyed the odd feeling. He let his feet drag against the ground, not caring at the tracks he left.

From here, it seemed like the Rectification had never happened. The floating hedrons remained untouched and the large blocks of code that made up short formations of cliffs, stacks and caves. He wondered if any other Program would try to take refuge there and began jogging forward. 

He was a handful of feet away when he finally saw it. Against the shore, he could see a dark lump of something lying in the water. The Siren though it was just part of the ground, until he saw it roll over and reveal tiny glowing orange dots. He stood, glued to the ground as it dawned upon him that the same figure wore an iconic helmet.

Ram could feel himself shaking down to his binary, slowly backing away as he kept his gaze firmly set on Rinzler. But then he began to question what exactly happened to him, why he was washed up on the shore, lacking his disks and in a state of temporary shut down. The hunters body would flinch and twitch, but save for the small movement he’s practically dead.

Then an arm shot forward, gripping at his heels and made Ram yell and drops the bottles. The Siren fell backward and scuttled away as fast as he could as Rinzler weakly grasped at the now cracked energy vials. 

Something about the scene made Ram almost pity him. Clearly, he was no threat in his current state. Tentatively, he nudged the bottle forward with his free foot before pulling back to watch. But even this close, Ram had trouble finding his silhouette. The circuits he could see were dim to the point of being non-existent. 

Rinzler had frozen again, but after a long, tense nanocycle, he moved to pull back the energy. Ram saw him scratch fruitlessly at the base of his neck, his purrs devolving into stuttering hiccups and harsh sounds. The sound grated at Ram’s audio and he crawled as far back as the cave would allow him. 

He watched from the short distance as Rinzler absorbed the energy back into his systems. But to his surprise, his circuits began to shift from the deep amber into a bright, User-friendly blue. Rinzler remained curled inward and soon started scratching at his helmet with both hands. To the point Ram though he would tear out a chunk of his own code.

“H-hey.” Ram said weakly, he hunched inward when Rinzler tilted back to face him, “I-please d-don’t de-rezz me.”

It was miniscule, but the Siren sees him make a short shaking motion. That gave him enough confidence to sit up and swallow down his fear. Rinzler sat up slowly, only half facing him and kneeling with his arms hunched over the energy. Ram glanced behind him and found another bottle just behind him.

“Uh, t-there's more energy there.” Ram pointed. “Looks like you’d need it.”

His helmet twists to the side ever so slightly before Rinzler reaches back without keeping his gaze fixed on him. The Program snatched it up the minute his hands curled around the glass. 

Ram sat, posture tense as he watched the tiny dots of circuitry flicker and glow on the Programs suit. Eventually, Rinzler looked down to both of the bottles and gave a frustrated growl. Both were already empty. Ram checked his chronometer, only three nano cycles had passed. 

“Wow, you really needed that, huh?” he commented quietly. 

Rinzlers growl struck him as irritation, but he made no move to attack him. Ram glanced back to the mouth of the cave and began to slowly shift towards it. The motion drew the other Programs attention, head flicking back up to face him.

His circuits went cold with apprehension and Ram considered the idea of having to fight. One hand was raised for his disk, while the other was raised to block. He didn’t expect Rinzler to vigorously shake his head, purrs growing rapid and distressed. The Siren had to take a full nano cycle to take in his posture.

Shoulders hunched, fingers tense and his legs still planted to the ground with no indication he was even beginning to move. As his eyes scanned the Program, he caught sight of a slamm array of circuits at the base of his neck. Four small squares, arranged in a ‘T’ formation and the only part of Rinzlers circuitry that was a solid, shining blue. 

At the sight of them, Ram could feel the buzzing in his code grow and pierce through his very core. He screamed and fell forward, pressing his head against the grains of the beach as more sounds and images flew past his vision. 

_Dark cells glowing with a subtle shade-_

, _”-was an actuarial Program-”_

_Three programs, one in an Alpha tunic, the confidence and seeming obliviousness he eludes is confusing._

_”-still out there?”_

_”They better-”_

_Binary chatter, reaching out only to feel the sting of a invisible barrier._

_A light cycle beside him, a familiar voice. A large, open grid with ribbons of light trailing behind them._

_”-ady?”_

_”Ready.”_

_Laughter, a sound like the the Sea. The light of a pure spring of energy. More binary chatter. Someone leaning over him._

_Four squares of light. Arranged in a ‘T’ formation._

When Ram surfaced from the torent on noise, there was a hand on his hair and against his back.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of Ram’s functions were slow to reboot. But he was conscious enough to register the gentle pressure of someone’s hands against him, holding him. His optical sensors haven’t fallen into focus, so Ram tries to reach up to trace out who is holding him. 

“Quorra?” He whispered hoarsely, “are you there?”

Slowly, the Siren recalled where he was and more importantly, who. The soft purr above him snapped Ram back into reality and he nearly jumped out of his shell. Rinzler’s hands flew away immediately and they skittered back to their opposite ends of the cave, eyes trained on one another. 

His hand grabbed for his back, checking to see if his Disk was still in place. Ram let his shoulders fall once his fingers caught the rim. Rinzler curled back further at the motion, hands raised in a action of mercy. Something began to tug at the still lingering, fuzzy feeling in the back of his head. Ram reviewed his visual files and found this glitch to be in much stronger clarity than before.

Looking back, he could see the flashes of unfamiliar - _familiar_ \- circuitry, clips of voices and the vaguest outline of a face. His eyes trained on Rinzlers mark, puzzle pieces sliding into place in his mind. 

“I - did we know each other?” Ram asked, even if it sounded stupid outloud.

Rinzler nodded, hand brushing against the same sequence of nodes at his neck. It was as close as a confirmation he assumed Rinzler could give. He pushed back his hair and exhaled. “But if we knew each other, why don’t I remember you? Where did we meet? I don’t think it was the Grid.”

Then the Siren realized Rinzlers purrs had evolved into sharp clicks. He inched closer, trying to listen. Rinzler suddenly made a sickly, hacking sound as he clutched at his throat. Ram grit his teeth and swore, balling his fist into the ground.

“Glitch.” He cursed, “Rinzler, stop. You’ll just damage yourself.”

Even if he couldn’t see it, Ram could feel the others frustration. The other program rubbed tenderly at his throat as the sounds died down. Rinzler reached down and set his hand on Ram’s. The Siren gasped softly - when had he been that close? - and his eyes shifted from his hands to Rinzler's’ helmet, now hovering in front of him. He saw him nod again.

Ram glanced over Rinzlers shoulder and at his empty disk dock. An idea sprung forward and he cracked a wide grin. “Of course! I can get you a new disk, I’ve got access to the armory!”

He began to grow nervous when Rinzler didn’t give any sort of reaction. Ram smoothed his free hand over the thin circuits on Rinzlers’ hand. “It’ll be perfectly safe, there’s no reason to be worried.” 

Rinzlers’ head turned away and Ram felt him twitch at the touch. It didn’t deter his confidence. “Hey, just cause I’m a Siren doesn’t mean I can’t defend myself.” 

He saw the hunter shake his head and move to stand. Ram cocked his head and his smile finally dropped. Rinzler forced himself upright, only for his circuits to flicker and his body keel forward. Ram caught his arms and lowered him down despite the audible growl of protest. 

“Look, you’re in no shape to play hero,” He said bluntly, “beside, you don’t even have a weapon and you’re running on minimal power. So, no offence, but you won’t do much in a fight but slow me down.” 

Rinzler’s growl pitched higher and he shoved Ram’s hands off him. The Siren sighed and kneeled down to try and face Rinzler, who now had curled up a leg and refused to face him. “Oh come on, quit acting like a damaged bit. If you really wanna come, there’s somewhere that’s safe I can drop you off at. It’s safe and there’s plenty of energy.” 

The promise of energy and a compromise at least drew Rinzler’s attention. Ram just hoped Sam or Quorra didn’t come back too soon, he doubted they’d take as well to the former hunters presence as well as him. 

Ram stood and offered his hand to Rinzler, who - after a long nano cycle - let himself be pulled upward. The Siren made sure to keep close in case the other Program fell forward. He peeked out from under the cave, checking for other Programs, before finally stepping out from it’s shadow. 

They trekked up the beach and back towards the city. Rinzler paused behind him, then tugged at his hand. “Huh,” Ram questioned, “what is it?”

Rinzler mimed our holding a bar before snapping it in two. “Oh! You’re wondering if I have a baton.” He stated. Rinzler nodded. “Well, I kinda… just walk here.”

It was remarkable how clearly Rinzler could communicate disapproval, despite not having a face. “Come on, it’s not like anyone’s attacked me before! I just like walking, is that so weird.”

The other Program gave a very clear, very over exaggerated nod. Ram just rolled his eyes, but not before Rinzler saw his smile. 

There walk was mostly quite, save for some one sided conversation from Ram. The outskirts of the city were mostly uneventful and still, it was only once they made it closer to the core. 

Ram caught sight of at least three other Programs since entering the sector he knew Sam and Quorra's ‘apartment’ laid hidden. He cast another glance back at Rinzler, his growls had ticked up at least twice since entering and he made a point to practically stay glued to the Sirens back.   
As much as he put up a fuss about it, now Ram was glad he had Rinzler shadowing him. The second Ram turned the corner, Rinzler shoved him back and out of the way of a falling piece of building, followed by at least half a dozen new Programs. 

“Hand over your disk, Siren.” Growled a teal-coloured Program, “maybe we’ll even spare your freak of a partner.”

“Woah, hold up.” Ram soothed, “you don’t need to do this. I know what you all want. Sam Flynn has-”

“Frag the Users!” Another yelled, “all they’ve ever brought our system is disorder and suffering!”

“Death to the Users!” 

“Death to the Users!”

The chanting grew louder as the Programs circled. Ram swallowed hard and pulled out his Disk, taking stock of how long it would take for them to escape with their limbs all attached. Then Rinzler’s piercing growl broke through all the noise. It was the angry snarl of something none of the Programs had a name for. 

Rinzler stepped in front of Ram, the dots of light across his Gridsuit burning with blue fire. He wondered how or where that extra power came from. He took a stance in front of him, knees bent low and arms out. Fluid and tense all at once.

Ram couldn’t tell where Rinzler would strike, or how he would defend himself without a Disk. But he didn’t have enough time to come up with a better plan when a Program behind him gave a battle cry and Ram had to block a strike. Three of the six were on him in an instant, while the rest split away to battle Rinzler.

The Siren twisted under a thrust, then knocked the legs out from under the Program who’s made the attack. But before he could pierce his code, he was forced to duck and roll to avoid another thrown disk aimed at his head. The third Program - the same teal one - barreled into him and knocked him to the floor. 

The teal Program managed to hold down both hands at the wrist and pinned his lower half by straddling him. “Should’ve just handed this over to me, Siren.” He sneered, tracing the still glowing disk. 

“How about no.” Ram smirked.

His expression confused his attacker long enough for the Siren to plant his feet against the ground, buck up and roll. Ram flicked out his disk and threw his Disc against one of the buildings. While the other Program surged up to his feet, ram’s Disc ricocheted off the wall and flew straight back into his hand. But not before flying through the teal Programs torso. 

The Siren turned back to the remaining two and quickly ducked under another jab before slicing upward and rolling under the shower of falling voxels. His last adversary was stunned for a precious second, but Ram found himself glancing back toward Rinzler.

Somehow, he’d already managed to leave two of his own opponents nothing but piles of voxels. But now he struggled to dodge the attacks from the last Program. Another Siren, who had grabbed one of her comrades fallen Disks and began throwing both at his ally. Rinzler was able to dodge well enough, but Ram could see his circuits dim. Whatever power boost he’d received, it was fading fast. 

Ram found the perfect moment to strike. Just as the Siren threw out her second Disk, Ram let his fly. She only a moment to react before falling to the floor. Rinzler looked back to him, but then began to rush towards him. 

The last Program had leapt behind Ram and was brining his Disk down for a skyward strike. But Rinzler was faster. He shoved Ram back and the Siren hit the ground and slid back into the side of another building. 

His vision flickered. There was a flash of voxels, the scream of a derezzed Program. Then silence. Panic immediately flooded every subroutine and every line of code within Ram’s being. “Rinzler? Rinzler! Oh Users, Rinzler!”

Ram found the other Program kneeling next to where the last attacker stood. “Oh thank the Users, Rinzler, you’re okay.”

He fell to his knees beside Rinzler and pulled him in for a hug. Ram pulled back after a micro cycle of recalling that the other didn’t like being touched. But he suddenly felt a pair of arms curl under his armpits and press him closer, Rinzler’s pur loud in his audios

The Siren felt Rinzler’s hand glide over his shell, checking for any sign of damage. Ram didn’t know how to react to this mix concern and intimacy. 

When Rinzler finally let him pull back, Ram mouth dropped in disbelief. Rinzler’s helmet had been split and cracked, revealing part of his face. He didn’t think that Clu had given his hunter - _my friend’s_ \- a face. He didn’t expect to find wild - _protective, noble_ \- eyes framed with dense shadows. He didn’t expect Rinzler to hold him this close while his single, amber-lit eye scanned him with a manic fever.

_”Ram.”_

He didn’t expect to hear his name in a soft, static riddled voice. Ram felt himself go slack in his arms. He knew that voice.

“Tron?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ram and Tron make it to the Armoury without another fight, but they face another set of problems within.

Both Programs were frozen in the middle of a street littered with voxels, caught in eachothers eyes. Ram’s expression grew from shock, into grief and finally, a wave of satisfying familiarity. His hand reached up to trace the outline of Tron’s - _what did he do to you_ \- face through the helmet, wishing the rest of the glitched thing would de-rezz.

“Tron, you’re-I…” Ram can’t form words, his vocals stall as he tries to express what he feels. “It’s you. It’s really you.” 

The single eye is curved ever so slightly. The Siren can imagine his friends smile. He latches around him, pressing himself against the other. Ram suddenly realizes he can _hear_ energy pulsing under Tron’s suit. And he knows with certainty what is under it, the patterns of light and fine lines of circuitry. 

Ram shifted and he felt his leg brush against him. That’s when he finally noticed the remaining voxels. Tron followed his gaze and rose slowly, helping the Siren up. Ram could still feel the buzz of the sudden attack through his circuits, he forced himself to calm and remember where they were supposed to go. He glanced at Tron’s circuits again. 

Surprisingly, they were still glowing a steady blue. But Ram trusted the flickering data in the back of his mind that said Tron was hiding his pain. At the scrutiny, Tron pulled Ram forward, toward the armoury. That was as much confirmation Ram would get. He simply rolled his eyes fondly and continued to guide them. 

“I can’t believe it took me this long, but thank you.” Ram said, “For saving me back there. Even if it was glitched of you to throw yourself in front of a Disk like that.” 

Tron’s eye narrowed at him and squeezed his wrist in a way that jumped the line of comrade and into frustration. The Siren’s smile dropped. “Hey, c’mon Tron. You know I don’t mean that.”

The other Program just shook his head sharply and growled. Ram mentally threw Clu several more curses at the fact that his friend was rendered mute. He made a note on asking Sam to look at Tron’s code when the User returned. Though he made sure to ask Tron first. As they rounded toward the street-facing entrance of the armoury, Ram felt Tron shove him back as he scanned the opening of the alley they would be walking out of.  
“There’s nobody here.” Ram questioned, “besides, one we’re inside, it’d be really stupid for someone to attack us in there.” 

The Program made no move to resist the way Tron keeps him pushed back. Only after a long nano-cycle was Ram allowed forward. He ran up to the entrance and accessed the main interface while Tron stood guard, already positioned like he’d be expecting another attack and still emitting the low-level growl. Ram sighed and turned back to the console. Though the humming was persistent, it was comforting to know that any Disk around wouldn't be pointed at him. 

He stepped back and tugged at Tron’s arm as the door pulled inward, shining off-white interior casting light onto the street. Ram saw how Tron’s free arm flinched upward, but settled back as the Siren lead him. The interior was the same, save for the lack of any other Sirens or any Programs at all to begin with. Normally, the front hall would have at least two Siren’s speaking to one other, or someone behind the Information Directive. Now, even with his oldest - as far as he could remember - friend by him, Ram still felt alone.

Tron took one last glance behind them as the door closed behind him. He found Ram just standing in the middle of the empty room, eyes trained at the ground. Even in the wash of light and white coding, somehow, the other Program gave of more light than his surroundings. Ram’s head perked back up and held the same, cheeky expression from before. Tron’s eye narrowed in scrutiny.

The other Program sagged. “Right, sorry. You’ve been waiting long enough. Let’s go.”

Echoes of footsteps and purrs filled the empty halls as Ram retraced his steps to one of the armory rooms. Both Programs are filled with the strong unease as they walk. Both for the same reasons. Ram blinks hard as he tries to both map out where to go, along with what solid data he could recall from his glitches. He could remember a cell, Tron’s voice - how he wanted to hear him again - and the name of their User, Flynn. The Siren couldn't help the small swell of pride in knowing he had the privilege to speak with the Creator face to face. 

But for some reason, the idea also filled him with as much sadness as it did wonder.

“Hey, what do you remember about me?” He decided to ask Tron, even if he couldn’t expect much, “was I always a Siren?”

A shake. “Ok, uhh, what was I before? Another security Program? Management? Or was I just some Data Pusher?”

Each guess was only met with another shake, though his last answer gave Ram another subtle part-rumble part-laugh. “Alright, then I guess you can tell me later. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?”

Tron’s eye squinted and fell to the floor before turning back up to face Ram and nod. Ram bit his lip at the poor joke. Given what he’d been through, saying that Tron would be reluctant would be a massive understatement. “Sorry. I… I didn’t really process that. Did I?” 

Ram’s emotions lightened when Tron’s eye curved again and his hand settled on his shoulder. He smiled, trying again to render what his friends face would look like with a similar expression. Soon, they found themselves standing in front of what appeared to just be another segment of the wall. The Sren pushed his shoulders back again and raised his hand to call up the interface again. Browsing through the set commands, he found the one he was searching for. The one only Siren’s could access. 

He’d seen it done almost a dozen times by the others, dismissing the door as they walked out of the room after the last Program was sent into the Games for the cycle. Technically speaking, Ram wasn’t entirely sure if it could even be opened from this side. But he activated the command and hoped for the best. Then the error message popped up and Ram stamped his irritation into the ground.

“Gridbugs.” Ram groaned in frustration. “Ok, I think we can get in through the Arenas. But I know a couple Programs still like to visit there. Though how we get down there might take some time-”

Ram suddenly jumped when he felt Tron tap harshly at his Disk. He turned and sees Tron’s head inclined toward his Disk Dock. The Siren’s eye widen at the idea and reaches backward, pivoting to face Tron and holding out his unlit Disk. “Or this, this could work too.”

To his surprise, he sees Tron step backward, hands glued to his sides. He sees the question in his eyes and the shake of his balled fists. A question of confidence. Tron can’t believe that someone - even his only friend - would trust him with their very core, who they were condensed into something so delicate. Ram simply reached out for Trons arm, hand slowly moving down and toward his fist. His fingers try to pry open Tron’s hand but he still resists, lone eye turned away.

“Tron, Tron cut it out.” Ram makes an irritated noise as he persists, “look, I trust you with this. But if you really don’t want it, I can do it myself.” He trusts his swing well enough.

At the ultimatum, Tron nods graciously. The Siren sighs, hoping that Tron resisted more but obeying his request. “Ok, here it goes.”

Ram took a stance and dragged a sharp cut across the wall. It left a shallow trail of pixelated data, but not any sort of opening. He frowned, then looked back at the glowing edge of his Disk and back to the wall. The Siren crouched and forced his Disk against it, having to use both hands as the edge of the Disk cut into his hands from the resistance. He grit down on the pain and slowly dug through the wall.

Cubic cracks spread through the wall and pixels slowly fell away and faded back into the system as raw data. Ram had only managed to cut into an eighth of the wall before he heard Tron growl behind him and pull his hands off the still embedded Disk. His hand was pressed open and Ram winced at the way the cracks weaved across his bare suit.

“Fragging Siren uniform.” He grit out. This time, Tron didn’t hesitate to continue Ram’s work on the wall.

He must have dug in at a different angle, or changed some set of variables, because Tron was practically gliding through the wall. But Ram found it amusing when the other Program was forced onto his toes because of a miscalculation of height - presumably. Tron finished his work in about half a nano-hex - Ram field another reminder to tell Sam to fix this too - and they both hesitated when they took their first step inward. There was no moving air within the room or the Grid as a whole, but both could feel a chill sweep across their backs. 

Ram swallows and forces himself to step inside. Tron follows in suit, but the hesitance is only slightly less noticeable. The Siren pulls up the interface quietly and in front of them, the pedestal holding a blank Disk. He takes it silently and walks to face Tron. He can’t read the expression in his friends eyes, but he can read the frustration. Silently urging him and giving permission. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it now.” Ram states outloud, stepping behind him and gently twisting the Disk into place. Tron grunts, then goes stiff and Ram tenses for any sort of reaction.

But it’s surprisingly anticlimactic. The ring of light slowly fills, slower than normal, but without any sort of major interruption. No flailing or growling, Ram sighs in relief. When the Disk is done loading, he’s smiling when he turns to face Tron again. Then his smile suddenly drops. Tron’s eye is still the only part of his face he sees. He’d expected the helmet to retract or to hear Tron’s voice. But it’s still just silence and low purrs.

Tron’s eye blinks hard and he tilts his head up to the ceiling. He stretches out his fingers and traced up to the rim of his helmet. Then Ram jumped back when Tron fell to his knees, slammed his fists into the ground and roared. He started scratching furiously at the back of his helmet, then suddenly reached for his Disk. The action shocked Ram into action and he grappled for Tron’s weapon, struggling against how vigorously his friend shook to free himself. 

“Tron! Wait! Please, just wait!” He cried, trying to keep the glowing edge from Tron’s head and falling to his knees in front of him, “What are you doing?”  
Whatever sparked the outburst, it evened out by the distress from the Siren. Tron let his Disk clatter to the ground and he folded inward, rocking and pulling at the crack of his helmet. Ram picked up the fallen Disk and moved to dock it. Only to be stopped as Tron shot out a hand. He gestured to his eye, then the rest of his face. His eye was wide and shining, pleading. Ram understood what he wanted, but the idea send a fresh wave of fear through his code.

“You… you really want to do that?” He asked. Ram felt dread fall over his shoulders like a Recognizer’s spotlight. “I really, really don't like this idea. But… I know you don’t want to wait. Don’t you?”

Ram didn’t want for him to nod. He drew his own Disk, but kept it pressed under his hands on his lap. Along with Tron’s own Disk. “Let me do it. I can see where to cut. Rezzing armour onto Programs is one of my functions after all.”

Tron’s eye narrowed. “I understand why you’re nervous. Disk’s around my face never lead to good things after all.” Ram looked down at his Gridsuit, “I don’t remember you, but… but if I was your friend, if I was a Program worth his Users time, then please, let me do this for you.”

The Siren searched Tron’s face for any sort of tell, any sort of reaction. But the other Program seemed to retreat inward, almost as if he fell into hibernation. His processing time grated on Ram’s code and he tried to distract himself with the details between the Disk’s he held in his hands. Stark white and ebony black. Same white-blue circuitry - why was that so familiar? Then his answer came when he felt Tron’s helmet but against his forehead.

He’d pressed himself forward, close enough that Ram had to refocus his visual input. Afterward, he could see Tron had closed his eyes and his purrs dimmed to non-existent. Ram felt Tron’s hands press and fold his own over his Disk and slowly raise it to the edge of the helmet, just below his chin. His hands trailed down and across his circuits, before landing on top of the triangle-shaped symbol below his throat. 

“This is you saying yes, right?” Ram asked softly. He knew Tron’s answer, but he didn’t dare break whatever trust he’d been gifted.

Tron just nudged him closer. “Okay, I’ll need to start here.”

He tapped where he would begin, then began tracing his path. Down and across his neck, up and around the back of his head. This close to his base code, Ram knew he’d have to be precise down to each individual bit wherever he cut. He didn’t know if he could forgive himself if he did this wrong, not even his User could redeem him. 

“I’m starting.”

Ram activated his Disk and began to meticulosly cut across the path he traced. Tron - without command - slowly tipped his head back to make it easier for Ram to see where to cut. Tiny voxels fell to the floor and Ram hoped that none came from Tron. As Ram cut lower and across his neck, he felt Tron shaking and his hand curled over his. His hand was still steady as he finished the line across his front. 

He looked down to Tron’s hands, his eye was still squeezed shut. He didn’t want to let go. But Tron - perhaps by the lack of pressure - knew Ram needed to. He let go and Ram was free to stand and sit behind him. The Siren re-traced the short line across his neck he would make, before setting the Disk against where it would begin. Ram could swear he felt raw energy spray across his circuits, he had to force himself to remember what he was doing. One slip, and he’d never get to see what was under the mask. He’d never be able to see the Friend he couldn't remember. 

He poured all of his energy into making sure the pressure of the Disk was exact, the angle was even and all the millions of adjustments his fingers made to continue the exact line. The Siren pulled the Disk back the nano cycle he was finished. Tron was still posed impossibly straight and Ram had to quell the sudden, pounding fear that his friend had begun to de-rezz from the inside out. 

Then he watched with baited breath as Tron’s hands grazed the sides of the helmet, curved under the pixelated edge and finally, _finally_ pulled the mask away.

The well of emotion that struck him at the sight of the brown curls made Ram giddy. More energy prickled across his skin and he threw himself over the others shoulders, laughing and crying and a ridiculous mess of noise. But now at least he could see Tron, really _see_ him for the first time. Tron turned on his knees and cupped the side of the Siren’s face and Ram saw stars.

Tron’s eyes were still lit with amber light. A line of damaged code peeked up from under the collar of his cut suit and deep rings of shadows marred his eyes. But the smile on his face made his face shine like a beacon. Ram raised his hands to stroke the others hair, it stuck up in pieces and it seemed to be longer. 

“You look like a mess.” Ram teased. Though Tron didn’t care how disheveled he was. 

Then Ram saw Tron lean down and suddenly pressed their mouths together, the sensation felt so foreign, but Ram was too happy to care. The other Program was soft and warm and felt so undeniably familiar. Whatever this was, it felt good. He was too reluctant to pull away. Eventually, Tron began to rub against the curls on the side of Ram’s head while the Siren kept himself pressed close. 

“I’m so glad I can see you again.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again running with the Fannon that Programs can just soak up energy through their circuits. Like, think drinking through your skin (shut up it’s not weird). Cause reasons and I think that’s adorable. 
> 
> That, and this means they can get drunk swimming. LET. ME. HAVE. THIS.
> 
> Last chapter mates. Hope I’ve fed some of the Tram shippers still alive. Next ship O write for; POTENTIAL TRON X BECK? (Trek? Beon? Lmao)

Even if Tron couldn’t speak, it was still leagues easier to communicate. Ram could see the twitch in Tron’s eyes, the curve of his mouth and all the other tiny details he never knew he could notice. But something else he realized was the slight droop in Tron’s eyes, along with the way they constantly blinked. Walking back out the armoury felt like a weight derezzing over their shoulders. 

The silly, almost giddy feeling didn’t leave Ram as he left and he didn’t bother hiding his dumb smile. Tron just rolled his eyes, but he smiled and kept his arm curled around Ram’s shoulder as they walked back out into the front hallway. But at the sight of the doorway, his hand left his shoulder and went to his Disk. The easy smile smoothed over with firm unease and suspicion. Even Ram’s light mood dampened. 

He sighed. “Right… other Programs. Gridbugs.”

Tron frowned at his language, but nodded. “Well, the apartment isn’t too far from here. We should be okay.”

Ram walked up to the door, opening and walking through swiftly with Tron following close behind. The empty streets still filled both of them with unease. Ram pulled of his own Disk, hoping he didn’t have to use it again. 

“Hey, just remember not to throw yourself in front of another Disk for me.” He couldn’t help the quip. And if it levitated some of the moodiness from Trons face, it was a bonus. 

Sticking to the shadows of the buildings, the path back to the apartment was thankfully undisturbed. Their problems came when they found a crowd of Programs blocking the entrance, their circuitry a mix of orange, green and some with hints of blue. Some armed with Disks and Batons. Ram bit down another curse.

“Well, guess I was being watched.” He sighed, the Siren turns back to Tron, “got any ideas?” 

Ram saw how Tron’s gaze was drawn upward, toward the skyline of the city. Then he nodded toward the other Program, pulling him back. Ram found no reason to protest, until Tron started to run and pulled his arm around his neck. The Siren couldn’t find the time to protest as Tron lept upward to grab onto part of another building, jumping between outcroppings and ledges as Ram held on and tried not to think about how large the drop was growing. 

Once they stopped, Ram hazarded a glance around them. The fear of de-rezzing from the fall lingered, but the bare view of the city was amazing. Tron turned and gestured with his head toward the tower.

The Siren watched as Tron surveyed the building. “Oh, which floor is Sam’s?” Ram took a moment to guess, “uhh, I think it was the fifth? But I didn’t see any other Programs inside, so I’m not sure it’ll matter.”

Tron nodded, then began to grapple for his Disk. Ram adjusted swiftly and handed it to him. The other Program didn’t need to hear him warn him before they were flying through the air. The Siren had to resist the urge to scream, not out of fear, but out of the thrill of air rushing past him. The sudden impact and shattering around Ram reminded him of a de-rezzed Program, but less mess. He lowered his feet and sighed in relief as he touched solid ground. 

Tron docked his Disk quietly and patted down Ram for damage. The Siren just accepted it. But glancing behind Tron’s shoulder, he cringed at the hole they’d made in the Users floor. “I hope Sam isn’t too mad at us.” 

At the Users name, Ram caught the way Tron’s shoulders pressed forward. The Sirens eyebrow furrowed. “He’s a kind User, just like - uh - well, I’m sorry. I know how touchy that must be for you.” 

Tron steeled himself again. “Anyways, I promised you energy. Didn’t I?” 

He took the other Programs hand and led him back and towards the main room. Ram nearly stumbled forward when Tron suddenly froze again. His gaze was trained on the mix of furniture within the room. More specifically, all of the elaborate white structures Quorra told him were imported from their hideout. 

Ram could see his gaze scanning everything inside - perhaps he was running subroutines? - and it seemed as if Tron itched to reach out and touch. But he held himself still. The Siren just pulled out two bottles of some of the higher grades of energy and stood beside the other Program, setting his own on the table before pressing the bottle into Tron’s hand. 

“Here, drink up.” He smiled, reaching back for his own. 

Ram drank in small sips from his vial, but his forehead creased when Tron just stared at the energy with a sad expression. The security Program saw the others questioning glance and simply tapped at his lips. The Sirens fist curled tighter against the neck of the bottle. “Glitch, I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

Tron’s frown remained, but instead of trying to open his mouth, he simply poured the energy over his head. It trickled down his head in glowing beads of mint before it soaked into his Gridsuit and made the nodes of light brighten. Ram tried not to stare too obviously as he made his way to sprawl across the couch. Most of the energy Tron had poured over his head, but some had fallen onto the carpet and left small afterimages of light before the energy diffused into the system. 

He forced a cough. “T-that works too. Take as much as you want. Even if Quorra thinks I just drank it all.” 

The other Program managed to smile at that and Tron settled to sit beside Ram, cradling the bottle. A thoughtful expression passed his face before he set the bottle down and undocked his Disk. Ram sat up, Tron wavered between his Disk and the second Program in the room for a moment, before opening the Disk to reveal his broken code. Ram was no User, he couldn’t even recognize the dozens of lines of coded language, but the way the bright blue lines would flicker and chunks would glitch just screamed _wrong._

Looking at what had happened to his friend made Ram feel 

“Tron… I... “ Ram, yet again, couldn’t find words. He reached out hesitantly and Tron only flinched by a small margin at the touch. The Siren was smart enough not to reach too close to the Disk.

He watched as Tron flicked across his code, eyes narrowed in focus. As the walls of code scrolled past Ram’s vision, he tried to find anything of note. But gradually, he noticed how less and less of Tron’s code was filled with orange lines and more akin to being cut away entirely. It looked familiar. Ram set down his bottle and pulled of his own Disk, opening it beside Tron. Just like the other, large segments of his code were just blank. 

They looked to each other, then the obvious solution struck Ram. “Tron? Can I show you something?”

His head falls limp when it seems like he can’t find what he’s looking for. He docks his Disk, then he turns to give his attention to Ram. The Siren pressed his own into Trons hand and carefully guided him toward some of the code he knew housed his more intact memories. He saw the way Tron’s fingers twitched just before he reached the code, Ram didn’t blame him. 

“I’m letting you do this. You have permission. And my full trust.” Ram insisted, but not forcing. 

Tron nodded and pressed against the code without further guidance. Ram felt his vision plunge backward and his surroundings rearrange itself, before everything settled into the same, brighter and more colourful box he always saw but never recognized. Even through their connection, Ram couldn’t detect any sort of communication from Tron. But the prickle of familiarity grew stronger yet again.

The vague, grey and blue shape in front of him suddenly began to focus. The face was cleared and Ram was amazed to see it was Tron. His shell code was grey, he wore an oddly boxy helmet and his circuits were incredibly complex - he knew those patterns - but it was him. He was leaning against the wall of his own room - was there a force field between them? - but his head was turned to face him. 

Tron was smiling. It was a different smile. Wider, fuller and without any sort of looming shadow. Despite the fact both of them were probably detained. Ram hoped he could see Tron smile like that again. 

The memory paused, then began to replay. Ram focused on what else he could draw and tried to bring it to the forefront. The world crumbled again and this time, he found himself kneeling in front of a raw energy spring. This time, there were two other Programs he could see. One was lying on their back behind some large, cubic code. Tron was lying on his back directly in front of him, still smiling. 

Ram flicked some of the energy toward Tron’s face and the security Program tried to bat it away indignantly. He heard himself laugh and Tron tried to look displeased. The other Program stepped over the small crevasse and toward Ram. He tracked his movements and Ram pushed his back against another outcropping of code and Tron moved to lie on top of him. A hand reached up to drag through his hair and Ram could hear himself groan and lean into the touch like he always did. 

It was followed by a sharp prickle and a wave of sensation as Tron threw up a large handful of energy directly into his face. This time, he heard both of them laugh. 

From there, Ram couldn’t think of any more pieces of data intact enough to share. There was one of him lying on his back, another Program - the third one? - hovering above him, holding his hand. But his entire being felt like it was falling apart from the inside out, bit by bit. Down to the moment his shell dissolved back into the system, pulled apart until he was nothing. He couldn’t share that with Tron. 

He pinged Tron right before he pulled out. Ram shook out his curls and re-adjusted his vision to fit the darker atmosphere. Tron’s eyes were still trained downward, but slowly, they rose to face him. His eyes flicked to behind him and toward his own Disk. Then he shook his head.

“You don’t want to show me, or you can’t show me?” Ram didn’t want to be right.

Tron tapped one finger to Ram’s Disk. He was relieved, but curiosity itched at his shell. But he nodded. “Okay, maybe after Sam takes a look at it.” 

He docked his Disk and leaned forward. The memory of those circuits brought another connection to light. He derezzed the lower half of his arm’ suit, revealing cyan squares and thin lines of light. Tron’s gaze was fixated on the circuits, on the way they threw of so much light. He reached out and brushed over the squares of light, Ram shivered and saw how the cyan subtly blended into faint indigo along the edges. 

“G-guess I can wait then.” He glanced to Trons mostly full bottle, “Till then, you gonna finish that?”

The security Program cocked an eyebrow and shook his head sharply. Ram pretended he didn’t see it and snatched it back, pushing himself away as Tron crawled up, grabbing at his outstretched arm. Ram managed to grab his own bottle in his scramble back and didn’t hesitate to dump the contents on both of them. He suddenly gasped again at the uncanny feeling, like electricity jumping between them. 

When he glanced back at Tron’s suit, he realized there were more circuits that had blossomed across the expanse. He reached up to trace the circuits with his bare hand and smirked as they began to fade into magenta. Though while distracted, Tron managed to get a grip on the bottle in Rams outstretched hand and tip it down. More energy splashed over them and Ram’s eyes flew wide.

Tron’s Gridsuit was now a bright mess of lines and dashes. The Siren let the bottle drop to the floor, his hands now tracing the drops of energy that had yet to be absorbed into Tron’s system. Above him, he heard Tron purr and press himself closer, more sparks traded at the contact. Ram felt himself buck up and whine when one of Tron’s hands squeezed over a broad line of circuits across his hips. 

There was a series of clinks below him and Ram glanced down to see Tron had somehow managed to dragged up one of the crates of energy and held another bottle.

There were at least twenty bottles on this crate. Ram smirked, he figured they’d take their time. 

**::::**

“Did you remember to turn of the stove this time, Sam Flynn?”

He pinched his nose and groaned. “Yea, yea I did. I’m sure this time.”

“Good.” Quorra smiled. But Sam saw it more as a smirk, “ I don’t want to leave Ram on more ‘User Business’. Not to mention the Grid.” 

Sam thumbed his head against the side of the elevator as it closed. “You’re going to hold that over my head forever, won’t you.”

“As long as I have to, Son of Flynn.”

They exited their floor without further quips about leaving ovens open and almost accidentally burning down their shipping crate apartment. But entering their on-Grid apartment, Sam fixated on the gaping hole in the window in front of him. He leaned down, searching for the remnants of the unfortunate Program who’d fallen. But amazingly, there was nothing. The User quickly re-coded the window as he tried to figure out what had happened.

“Quorra, are you sure did anyone see us enter? No other Programs tailgating us?” He asked warily.

To his surprise, he heard the ISO laugh. “I’m sure, Son of Flynn.”

Sam turned in confusion and found Quorra crouched in front of of the couches with a happy grin, looking at something that cast a large aura of light over the living room. He didn’t know what was so amusing, until he glanced over. 

Ram was sleeping with a very pleased expression, his curls falling over one of his eyes and most of his suit was gone. Exposing shining white-blue line of circuitry. But that wasn’t it. Another Program was lying over him, his face pressed tight against Ram’s neck and shoulder and bare down to his torso, showing of an impressively detailed pattern of circuits over their back. Both of his arms were curled possesive over the Sirens torso and at the foot of the couch was at least a dozen empty bottles of energy.

Sam flushed, he didn’t expect to find something like this on the Grid. “O-oh, uhh. I didn’t know Ram was… seeing someone. Damit, gotta remember to give him the code to the room.”

Quorra smile didn’t falter as she stood. “He never told me he was.” 

“Well I guess we know now.” Sam fidgeted awkwardly, “um, should we leave? Rest of the Grid and all that.”

“I suppose. I can talk to Ram more after his energy levels equalized.” 

Sam wondered if ‘equalizing’ came with a killer headache. He tried not to steal another glance behind him as they left. As an afterthought, he coded a small note onto the table.

_Tell you boyfriend I said hi Ram. P.S, you so owe me._


End file.
